Sign up here to receive weekly updates from Dusted

Recent Reviews

Dusted Reviews

The Real Sleaze

As a result of the manufactured “garage rock renaissance” of these last few years, a lot of well-intentioned bands have received more attention - and incurred more of a backlash –than they deserve. I’m willing to believe that more than a few would-be heroin sheiks started aping the Animals instead of Nirvana in a self-conscious drive for acceptance, but just as many have been playing trog-rock for years out of an honest love for it. You can pick out members of the latter category because they’re usually too drunk to notice the attention they’re getting thanks to all those well-funded “the Plurals” retro-buffoons.

Any major label would be lucky to sign the Flash Express right now. All the same, I’m putting them in the oblivious-‘n’-true category, and their awareness of hip hop (dig the shortnin’ bread hoedown cover of “The Message”) doesn’t convince me that their shtick is in any way calculated. They’re going to get shit from purists for having a sense of humor, but, unlike Jon Spencer’s, the FE’s mock messianic jive is actually funny. Any snake oil salesman who’s funny gets off my hook, eight or nine times outta ten.

“Who Stole The Soul” half-facetiously suggests that the Express is here to reverse everything that’s limp and repugnant with pop culture. Probably not going to happen. But I’m confident that they’ll still be doing shows and having a grand time when more people remember the words to “99 Luftballons” than “Last Night.”